THE CHILD WHO is decked with prince's robes and who has jewelled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at every step. In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is afraid even to move. Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life.
MY GUEST HAS come to my door in this autumn morning. Sing, my heart, sing thy welcome! Make thy song the song of the sunlit blue, of the dew-damp air, of the lavish gold of harvest fields, of the laughter of the loud water. Or stand mute before him for awhile gazing at his face; Then leave thy house and go out with him in silence.